Before there were rows of tombstones, what is now Highland Meadow Cemetery looked like much of Belmont, rolling fields, open to agriculture. The pastures on the hill were the property of Winthrop Ward Chenery.
In documents provided by the Belmont Historical Society, Chenery is described by his grandson as an imposing figure, 6-feet, 4-inches tall, stern, and always dressed in formal attire, as if waiting to receive the president. He was described as self-conscious, distant, and with little sense of humor. He was “sort of a New England edition of Mr. Dombey,” referring to the dour character in Charles Dickens’ “Dombey and Sons.” The documents go on to say, “his five sons were afraid of him, and he seldom shared their pleasures.”
Still, Chenery was a savvy businessman and partner of the trading firm Phelps and Company, West India importers, according to those same documents. He was a gentleman farmer, indulging in the livestock business. His hilltop property on Concord Avenue consisted of angora goats, Yorkshire swine, trotting horses, and, notably, Holstein cows.
Holsteins are ubiquitous now, the familiar black and white spotted bovines dot most rural New England hillsides. But that is only because Chenery introduced them to America in 1852.
That year, a Dutch sailing master landed cargo at Boston. He sold the cow that had provided the crew with milk throughout the voyage to Chenery. The Belmont farmer, who’d found the purchase worthwhile, would import more Holsteins in 1857, 1859, and 1861.
“To him, in fact, belongs the credit of introducing this country to the Holstein-Frisian breed – the black and white cows that one sees everywhere,” Chenery’s grandson, Winthrop Chenery III, wrote.
Today, Holstein-Friesians are the primary dairy breed in America, producing nearly all of the country’s milk supply, according to Britannica.
“Holstein cows make significant contributions to America’s dairy and beef industries,” Emily Bosch, senior communications manager of Holstein Association USA, wrote in an email. “Beyond the staple gallon of milk, Holsteins provide milk for cheese, yogurt, butter, ice cream, and other dairy products. After their productive life as a dairy cow is over, many Holstein cows go on to contribute quality lean beef to the beef supply.”
Chenery’s best cow, Texelaar, produced 76 pounds of milk in one day, and in 10 days would churn out 744 pounds. Because of the success of his imported cattle in America, Chenery’s Highland Farm would wind up on the front page of Harper’s Weekly.
In 1859, Chenery would also be responsible for an outbreak of bovine pleuropneumonia – an infection that involves an inflammation in the lung tissue, lung linings, and chest cavity – the first epidemic of this disease in America, according to the late town historian Richard Betts.
The pleuropneumonia spread rapidly, causing Chenery to lose half his cattle. Panic followed and, initially, “all of New England was in a state of frantic alarm.” The Cattle Commissioners and the Board of Agriculture contemplated “wholesale massacre of cattle.” In New York’s Central Park and Yorkville, “several cattle have lately died very mysteriously.”
Chenery theorized that his latest imported Dutch cows brought pleuropneumonia from Holland. The cows he’d bought were ill, emaciated. Or perhaps, he theorized, the disease arose from bad ventilation and poor feeding.
“I have been the means of introducing this disease into the country,” Chenery wrote in a letter published in Harper’s Weekly, “I am sure no one can regret it more than myself.”
No End of Worry
By the mid-20th century, the once-contagious pleuropneumonia was eradicated, and Chenery’s interests turned to horse racing. He built a half-mile racetrack across the street from his cow pasture. One of his best stallions, Gray Eagle, was used for breeding at the Highland Farm.
Chenery sold the Holsteins to farmers, scattering his herd across the country as far as California. When Chenery died, the rest of the livestock were put up for sale because his son, Winthrop Chenery II, did not share his father’s passion. The younger Chenery was said to have found the farm “the hardest kind of toil with little remuneration and absolutely no end of worry and uncertainty.”
Swept by modernization, Belmont transformed from farmland to residential homes. Businesses and restaurants have come and gone. While much has changed, the descendants of Winthrop Ward Chenery still reside in Belmont – nearly 200 years later.
Margaret “Peg” DeMeritt is the 11th generation of the Chenery line. While DeMeritt, now 91, would’ve been too young to meet Winthrop Chenery I, II, and III, she remembers regularly attending Sunday dinner at her grandmother’s.
“I don’t remember the Highland Farm at all, but I do remember the horse track across the street,” DeMeritt said. “We lived on Spring Street, and we would come down Concord Avenue right into Belmont to go to dinner on Sundays.”
Those Sunday dinners, DeMeritt said, would consist of a big roast. There’d be roast pork, beef, or venison. Supper, however, consisted of milk toast – milk poured over toast – and ice cream. However, DeMeritt “didn’t remember” hearing about Winthrop Chenery’s legacy in cattle history growing up.
When asked about what it was like having generational history in Belmont, DeMerritt dryly replied with, “You end up with a lot of stuff.”